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Authors: Alicia Hunter Pace
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nearly a year. But that’s beside the point. I’m sorry Firefly Hall is dependent on Around the Bend but it’s not my job to be a host for a parasite.”
Any softness Emory might have felt at almost mentioning his mother left the building. “Firefly Hall is
not
a parasite. We’re dependent on each other! We are not set up here to house people overnight. Where do you think our clients would stay?”
“When I was growing up, Firefly Hall was still a private residence and we did all right.”
“No, you did not. The only reason you made any profit at all was because of all the free labor. You had events for locals and people within driving distance. The girls who came for charm school boarded with people in town and it was a nightmare to orchestrate. It had gotten to the point where people didn’t want to do it anymore and the charm school would have died if Christian’s mother hadn’t finally moved to Florida and agreed to let her open the B&B. Now, we have people who come from all over.”
There was truth to what she said. And after he had become successful, until recently, Around the Bend had run in the red every year and he had picked up the slack. Finally, Amelia could have the business she wanted with the best dishes, finest linens, and all the help she needed. It had been her playground and he didn’t regret indulging her for one second. She had worked herself to death for him and his brothers. She had made them all take music lessons and, when Jackson had showed promise, had gotten him better and better teachers. He still wasn’t sure how she had afforded it. And even if she’d been a little disappointed that he had no interest in becoming a concert pianist, she’d gotten him a guitar anyway.
He would have bought her a palace if she’d wanted it. But she hadn’t. All she’d wanted was to “give the world a little elegance” and she’d wanted to do it at Beauford Bend.
He’d been surprised the first time Around the Bend showed a profit but he’d marked it up to luck or maybe that Amelia had finally reached the point where she didn’t need another crystal Champagne flute or golf cart. Now, he realized that time correlated to when Amelia had hired Emory.
Good. That meant Emory was good at her job and wouldn’t have trouble getting another one.
“I’m sure Christian will find a way to succeed,” Jackson said, though he wasn’t as sure as he sounded.
“Even if she could, what about the businesses in town?”
“What about them? You just sat here and told me people day-trip in to buy all that stained glass and handmade paper and whatever else they’ve got going on down there these days.”
“They do.” She nodded, closed out her spreadsheet, and brought up what looked like a diagram of downtown Beauford. “But we still go hand in hand. Just yesterday, Neyland MacKenzie sold nearly a thousand dollars worth of jewelry because the bride getting married at Beauford Bend forgot her bridesmaids’ gifts. And I mentioned how Noel from Piece By Piece is teaching the quilting classes here. She’s not even charging us because she knows those women will come into her shop and spend thousands while they’re here.”
Had she heard nothing he said? “Except they aren’t coming here, Emory. They’re going to have to do their quilting at Firefly Hall or maybe the fire hall. I don’t care as long as I don’t have to see a quilting bee!”
“They want to study the Beauford Bend quilts—quilts made by your ancestors. Do you have any idea of the value of that collection?”
“Hell, yes, I know. I ought to. I spent a fortune buying back what had been sold to keep this questionable roof over our heads, and another fortune to restore some that were too torn up to sell. Same thing goes for a bunch of lacy doilies, pillows, and old samplers.”
“Which is why a needlework guild spends a week here every spring. Naturally, they shop at the Eye of the Needle and String.”
“What? I don’t even
Any softness Emory might have felt at almost mentioning his mother left the building. “Firefly Hall is
not
a parasite. We’re dependent on each other! We are not set up here to house people overnight. Where do you think our clients would stay?”
“When I was growing up, Firefly Hall was still a private residence and we did all right.”
“No, you did not. The only reason you made any profit at all was because of all the free labor. You had events for locals and people within driving distance. The girls who came for charm school boarded with people in town and it was a nightmare to orchestrate. It had gotten to the point where people didn’t want to do it anymore and the charm school would have died if Christian’s mother hadn’t finally moved to Florida and agreed to let her open the B&B. Now, we have people who come from all over.”
There was truth to what she said. And after he had become successful, until recently, Around the Bend had run in the red every year and he had picked up the slack. Finally, Amelia could have the business she wanted with the best dishes, finest linens, and all the help she needed. It had been her playground and he didn’t regret indulging her for one second. She had worked herself to death for him and his brothers. She had made them all take music lessons and, when Jackson had showed promise, had gotten him better and better teachers. He still wasn’t sure how she had afforded it. And even if she’d been a little disappointed that he had no interest in becoming a concert pianist, she’d gotten him a guitar anyway.
He would have bought her a palace if she’d wanted it. But she hadn’t. All she’d wanted was to “give the world a little elegance” and she’d wanted to do it at Beauford Bend.
He’d been surprised the first time Around the Bend showed a profit but he’d marked it up to luck or maybe that Amelia had finally reached the point where she didn’t need another crystal Champagne flute or golf cart. Now, he realized that time correlated to when Amelia had hired Emory.
Good. That meant Emory was good at her job and wouldn’t have trouble getting another one.
“I’m sure Christian will find a way to succeed,” Jackson said, though he wasn’t as sure as he sounded.
“Even if she could, what about the businesses in town?”
“What about them? You just sat here and told me people day-trip in to buy all that stained glass and handmade paper and whatever else they’ve got going on down there these days.”
“They do.” She nodded, closed out her spreadsheet, and brought up what looked like a diagram of downtown Beauford. “But we still go hand in hand. Just yesterday, Neyland MacKenzie sold nearly a thousand dollars worth of jewelry because the bride getting married at Beauford Bend forgot her bridesmaids’ gifts. And I mentioned how Noel from Piece By Piece is teaching the quilting classes here. She’s not even charging us because she knows those women will come into her shop and spend thousands while they’re here.”
Had she heard nothing he said? “Except they aren’t coming here, Emory. They’re going to have to do their quilting at Firefly Hall or maybe the fire hall. I don’t care as long as I don’t have to see a quilting bee!”
“They want to study the Beauford Bend quilts—quilts made by your ancestors. Do you have any idea of the value of that collection?”
“Hell, yes, I know. I ought to. I spent a fortune buying back what had been sold to keep this questionable roof over our heads, and another fortune to restore some that were too torn up to sell. Same thing goes for a bunch of lacy doilies, pillows, and old samplers.”
“Which is why a needlework guild spends a week here every spring. Naturally, they shop at the Eye of the Needle and String.”
“What? I don’t even
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